Red
by Tate Shepard
Summary: Tara dies at the hands of the Trio, and Willow goes mad with grief.  What I think should have happened in the finale of Season Six.
1. Part One Teaser

"Red" 

By Andrew Crouch

Copyright 2003

Rated PG for some violence, some mild language.  Nothing you wouldn't see on any given episode of the real show.

I wrote this one to help soothe my own disappointment at the way the producers chose to end Season Six on "Buffy".  I really thought they had struck gold with the "Willow goes evil" angle, but leave it to these writers to screw it up royally.  I got the main plot ideas and started writing right after "Normal Again" aired and I got a few spoilers about the finale (i.e. Tara dies, Will goes crazy), so the path of this story diverges from the "real" story from that point on.  In this version, Anya hasn't come back yet, Spike never tried to rape Buffy (his relationship with her is currently in limbo) and of course never left Sunnydale.  I wanted to finish this in time for the actual airing of the related TV episode, but you know how things do tend to come up.

The general structure is that of your typical episode, split into acts separated by commercial breaks.  I considered writing this in screenplay format, but that would have been needlessly complicated as well much harder to read.  I also feel like I've got a bit more room to say things this way.

As always, all the characters belong to M.E. and not me.  Please enjoy.

_"Red" --- Part One_

_Teaser.  
  
_

            "Whatcha doing?"  
            Jonathan started almost out of his chair at the sudden intrusion, the voice from his shoulder.  Warren was at his side, staring past him at the computer screen, a wide smile brightening his narrow features.

            "Nothing," Jonathan said quietly, trying to appear less nervous than he felt.  This was the state of affairs, it seemed, whenever he and Warren were in the same room together these days. "What are you doing?"

            "Nothing," Warren repeated, the smile still on his face. "Just curious.  Typing something?"

            Jonathan turned back to the screen. "Something..."  
            "For the newsletter?"

            Jonathan shook his head, irritated. "I thought we scrapped that stupid newsletter idea."

            "We gotta have a newsletter.  You know, to keep our fans in the know."

            Jonathan rolled his eyes. "I didn't think supervillians needed fans."

            Warren tilted his head, as if confused, though the grin remained. "How else are we supposed to know how well we're doing?"

            "Body count, maybe," Jonathan murmured sadly.

            "What?"

            "Nothing, nothing," Jonathan replied stonily. "Look, did you need something, or you just gonna stand there smiling at me all day?"

            "Minor kink," said another voice from a different direction.  Jonathan looked up sharply at Warren standing over his shoulder, but the smile was frozen in place. 

            And then the real Warren stepped out of the shadows closer to the stairs.

            "What do you think?"

            "Jeez," Jonathan whispered, still staring at the robot. "It's really good."

            "I thought so," the real Warren said airily. "Actually, I kind of like the smile.  It really brightens your day, if you're feeling blue."

            Jonathan turned to look suspiciously at him. "When did you build it?"

            "Oh, I've been tinkering with it for a month or so."

            "You were building this thing for a month, and you didn't tell us?"

            "Andrew knew," Warren replied simply.  He was smiling, though unlike his robot doppelganger, the expression was not pleasant in the slightest.  

            "You just seemed to be less and less interested in Trio business, so I didn't want to bother you.  You know, in case you were busy with something more..." he glanced significantly over Jonathan's shoulder at the computer screen. "...important."

            "Yeah, well, you going Invasion of the Body Snatchers on me, I might wanna know that."

            Warren raised his hands. "Sorry."  

            He turned to robot. "You can leave now."

            Warrenbot nodded to both of them, the goofy smile still plastered on its face, and left the room.

            "What _are_ you writing?"

            Jonathan swiveled back to the computer, and began to type again. "A story."

            "What about?"

            "It's about three guys who have no business messing with the stuff they mess with, but they do it anyway.  They think they're big bads, or something, when they don't even know what it means.  Like mosquitoes, they peck and buzz and draw blood, until one day they itch enough to be swatted."

            "He's a poet and don't know it," Warren smirked. "Sounds familiar.  How does it end?"

            Jonathan grimaced, as if he tasted something bitter. 

            "Badly."

            _Credits._

_            Commercials._

            __


	2. Act One

_Act 1._

            Willow sat outside Drayton Hall, trying to look absorbed in a random textbook when she was really anything but.  It was warmly familiar to her, this waiting.  A few months ago she had been doing it on a daily basis, a habit she had been devastated to break.  Now picking it back up again seemed like the most natural thing in the world, the greatest relief, as if she had been forced to go months without oxygen.  She took in a breath, as if to solidify the moment, and tried very hard not to smile with joy.

            Tara walked out of the Hall, spotted her, and angled over.  Willow could tell that the other girl was trying just as hard to smother her own happiness - it was at the same time selfishly gratifying and a nearly overwhelming relief.

            "Tara..." As had been the case every time they had seen each other in passing over the past few weeks, Willow was ready to get down on her knees and pour her heart out - 

            "Slowly," Tara admonished softly.

            Willow nodded reluctantly, biting her tongue. "I know."

            "I missed you," Tara said.  There seemed to be tears in her doe-like eyes.

            "I missed you, too," Willow said, regretting that she couldn't find words more emphatic with which to express her feelings.

            Tara nodded reassuringly, as if to say that the words were enough.  

            "Do you want to get...something to eat?"

            Tara shrugged. "Sure.  Where?"

            "They just opened this new vegetarian restaurant across campus, near the Women's Block.  I hear they make the best garden salads, with those little walnut thingies that you like so -" She stopped for a moment when she noticed Tara stifling a laugh. "What?"

            Tara shook her head, waving her hand. "This.  I'd forgotten how much I liked to hear the sound of your voice.  Even when you're babbling."

            Willow blushed. "Oh...oh, man."

            They eschewed the shuttle in favor of a slow walk across the campus.  It was warm, somewhat muggy, and though the forecast promised rain for that night, at the moment the sun was still shining.  For Sunnydale U it was more than five weeks till the end of the semester, but already the crowds had thinned out noticeably.  

            "So..." Willow started. "Been up to any...uhm, magic...doings?"

            "Not really," Tara replied.

            "Me neither," Willow said quickly.  "But, uh, you knew that."

            Tara smiled.  "Yeah, I knew.  It's been really hard for you -"

            "It's getting easier, actually.  The more I stay away from it, the easier it gets."

            "I'm glad to hear you say that, Willow."  
            Willow nodded, fairly beaming.

            Tara looked around the campus. "So how's Xander holding up?"

            Willow's face clouded over a bit. "He's still...pretty bummed.  He's been hitting the Cheetos pretty hard the last couple of weeks.  Part of me wants to hit him with something blunt and heavy for leaving Anya there in the chapel like that.  But another part of me, you know, the part that's been his best friend for fifteen years, wants to just wrap him up until all the pain goes away.  I...I know what it's like to feel like you've betrayed somebody you love.  How much i-it hurts just to get up in the morning."

            Tara nodded sympathetically, though Willow thought she saw the ghost of a smile on the girl's face. 

            "And...no word from Anya?"

            "None.  Not so much as a somewhat vengeful e-mail.  I don't know if that's good or bad.  I think it might be easier for both of them if she came back and they worked this out face-to-face."

            "Who's keeping up with the magic store?"

            Willow shrugged. "Buffy and I have been keeping it clean.  But it hasn't reopened since Anya left."

            They walked for a few minutes in silence.

            "Have you heard from Giles?" Tara asked finally.

            "He calls once a week.  I think the Council keeps him on a pretty tight schedule.  He said he might be able to make it back stateside for a few weeks this summer.  Buffy...I mean, everybody really misses him."

            Willow looked down at the ground. 

            "Buffy's under a lot of pressure," Her voice wavered, but she kept going. "She's...so strong.  I don't how she stands it, being Dawn's guardian, the Slayer, holding down a full-time job."

            "That's what it means to be a superhero."

            Willow smiled half-heartedly, nodded. "I try to help out.  Whenever I can.  Like, helping her take care of the Magic Box.  Shepherding Dawn around.  But sometimes...sometimes it seems like she doesn't want my help.  Like she's pushing me away."

            Tara nodded. "Maybe she feels like she should be able to handle it all by herself.  She feels like she needs to shield you, to protect you."

            Willow shook her head. "She should know better than that.  This is how we've survived for six years on the Hellmouth, by fighting the bad guys together." 

            "Then maybe she feels like...its time for you to let go.  To live your own lives."

            They stopped, and sat down on a bench. 

            "That's exactly what she said, three years ago, right before graduation.  I-I told her...I got accepted to Oxford.  She was so proud.  When I told her I was going to stay in Sunnydale...she didn't want me to.  She wanted me to live my own life.  I told her, this is my life.  This is how I want to spend my life.  Making a difference."

            Tears beaded in the corners of her eyes.  Tara moved to put an arm around her shoulders, and Willow leaned into the other girl, almost unconsciously.  

            "I...I don't know if I'm making a difference anymore.  When Buffy died...all I could think about was bringing her back.  I d-deluded myself, I convinced myself and everyone else that she was in some demon dimension, trapped in eternal torment.  I didn't even allow for the possibility that we were...that I was going to tear her out of someplace she wanted to be.  It didn't matter.  I was doing something.  I was powerful.  I was the one saving the planet, the one making a difference."

            She closed her eyes, squeezing the tears out.  They ran down her face and onto Tara's arm. 

"Now...Buffy's back.  There's nobody to fight -"

            "The Trio -"

            "The Trio," Willow said, not without some dark humor, "they're nobody.  Just regular people, like us.  As soon as we find them, that'll be the end of it.  Besides which, it'll be pretty hard to top a hell goddess for pure bad guy mayhem.  A-at least, I hope it'll be pretty hard to top."

            Tara chuckled.

            "Buffy's dealing with stuff that's just...so ordinary.  Non-slayer worthy.  Raising Dawn, working for a living, paying the bills, all that normal stuff.  She doesn't need Research Gal.  She doesn't need Wicca.  She -"

            "She needs her friends."

            Tara kissed Willow delicately on the head.

            "Isn't that enough?"

            Willow looked up at her, chagrined. "I-I'm sorry.  You wanted to take this 

slowly -"

            "It's alright.  I'm glad you still feel like you can tell me these things."

            Will nodded, wiping her eyes dry. "Listen...I know you don't want to rush this, but I thought, maybe, we could do...something, tonight.  I mean, if you're not doing anything else..."

            Tara smiled. "I'm free.  What did you have in mind?"

            "Something romantic.  And preferably inexpensive.  Possibly...involving a darkened theater.  And a large bag of tropical Skittles?"

            "Well, this is romantic.  Just the two of us.  Alone, in the dark.  It feels like a moonlit stroll."

            Tara nodded, though it was hard to see her expression in the darkness.

            Willow turned to look around the neighborhood.  It was like a lot of them in the Sunnydale residential districts, neat and trim, not too big and not too small.  The immaculately squared-off lawns, mowed to an orderly inch of thick California grass, almost glowed in the dim illumination provided by the orange streetlights.  The only thing that might have struck the casual passerby as particularly odd was the curious lack of outside activity as early as…as…

            Willow shone the flashlight on her wristwatch.  It was 8:13.

            "This is pretty much where Buffy told us to start looking, right?" Tara said carefully. "Near where she got attacked."

            Willow silently agreed with her, but couldn't help the bit of resentment she had felt when Buffy has asked for their help.  She did want to help Buffy find the Trio, but did it have to be tonight?  When she felt so close to winning Tara back?  

            Willow laughed softly to herself.

            "What?"

            "I was just thinking," Willow replied. "How...ordinary this is for us.  I wanted to take you to the movies, you know, something special."  She smirked, remembering what someone she had loved had said to her once. 

"Our lives are different from other people's."

            Tara glanced around at the tract houses. "I was just thinking...about how nice it would be to own a house like this, one day.  Plenty of room for Miss Kitty and company to roam."

            "Seriously?" Willow said, trying not to sound too hopeful. "I k-kinda imagined something out in the open, in the country.  Maybe up in the mountains.  I grew up in town, but I always wanted to know what it was like to live miles from civilization.  Silence."

            "Did that already," Tara said softly, humorously, "Can I say, overrated?"

            Willow smiled, feeling rather awkward.

            "Hey -"

            Willow looked up the street in the direction Tara was gazing.

            "What's that?"

            Willow saw nothing besides another block of neatly spaced houses.  

"What?" she asked blankly.

            "There.  Third house down from the intersection, on the left."

            Willow strained, saw where Tara was indicating, but it took her a moment to register that something was different.  A red haze surrounded the house, a barely detectable glow that separated it from its neighbors.

            "What a strange aura," Willow said, and Tara nodded.

            "Looks like somebody's been working some magic mojo."

            Willow slapped herself lightly in the head. "Of course!  This is Jonathan's neighborhood!  I remember he used to carpool with us in kindergarten.  He must have gotten the house when his parents moved to Arizona last year.  Man, I am really out of the loop.  We could have looked up the address and saved ourselves a lot of trouble."

            "Don't worry about it," Tara said, and bit her lip. "Should we get Buffy?"

            Willow shook her head.  "I don't think she gets off work for another half hour or so.  We don't have to confront them or anything - we can just do a little reconnaissance work."

            They moved quietly toward the house.

            "Proximity warning," Andrew said, looking at the security camera. "Two...uh, females, e-entering the premises...p-probably not armed -"

            "Jeez, if you're gonna talk like a commando, learn how to do it right," Jonathan said crossly.

            "Shut up, both of you," Warren said. "It's the witches."

            "Willow?" Jonathan started out of his chair, looking up at the camera. 

            "How did they know we were here?" Warren said, looking dangerously at Jonathan. 

            Jonathan glanced away, ashamed. "We used to carpool together.  Oh, man..."

            "Never mind," Warren said, turning back at the camera.  The girls were walking quietly around the edge of the yard, toward the garage. "Release the guardian."

            "What?  No, don't!" Jonathan shouted. "It was alright with Buffy...I mean...at least she could d-defend herself.  Those two are just girls.  They're normal.  They'll be killed!"

            Warren grimaced. "So what?  It's either them or us, Jonathan -"

            "Don't give me that!" Jonathan shouted, and looked imploringly at Andrew. "This isn't a game!  Is this what it means to be a supervillian?  Just kicking back to watch some random demon kill our friends?  They saved my life!  They saved all our lives, more than once!"

            Andrew looked over at Warren fearfully. 

            "Push the button," Warren said calmly.

            Jonathan made a dash towards the security board, but was caught from behind by the Warrenbot. 

            "No!  Don't push it, Andrew."

            Andrew trembled, hesitated, but started to move toward the board.

            "Andrew!  She'll come after us if you do it.  And maybe this time she doesn't stop at just shutting us down."

            "Push the button," Warren said. "He's just a coward.  He's been against us from the beginning, trying to subvert us.  He was just too scared to put up a fight before now."

            Jonathan struggled against the robot's viselike grip, and screamed as loud as he could.  On the screen, the girls jumped, hearing the noise.  They began to move toward the basement to investigate.

            Andrew pushed the button.

            "What was that?"

            Willow shook her head, alarmed. "I don't know.  Sounded like somebody screaming."

            They moved around the house, and saw the open door to the basement.  The lights were on.  "I think it came from -"

            The garage doors suddenly swept open, and out stepped such a nightmarish vision that for a moment Willow was quite literally frozen with terror.  It was seven feet tall, topped with a pair of razor-sharp horns, and covered with black, greasy fur.  Strapped clumsily on its back was a bristle of arrows and a gargantuan bow.  Such as it was, the extra weaponry seemed redundant.  The beast roared, filling the night with sound, and charged them.

            Tara shouted something that Willow didn't quite understand, and turned to run.  The demon leapt with a deafening roar, covering the space from the garage to the spot where they stood in a few seconds, and tackled Tara from behind.  They fell to the ground with a dull thud.

            "Tara!"  Willow ran toward them.  Tara struggled out of the demon's hold long enough to climb to her feet.  She muttered something in Latin, and the demon flew back a few feet, with a growl of surprise and anger.

            "Come on!" Tara said, grabbing Willow's hand.  They ran back toward the street -

            Something whistled through the air to Willow's left.  An instant later she saw an arrow embed itself into a tree a few feet away in front of them.  "Oh, God -"

            Another whistle, and Tara was very suddenly on her knees.  Willow stopped. "What's wro-"

            Tara looked up at Willow, her eyebrows knitted together in surprise.  Her mouth opened.  She tried to speak, but no sound came out.  Numbly, they both looked down at Tara's chest.

            An arrow point, slick with blood, protruded from her left lung.

            "Tara -"

            The girl fell to the ground, clutching weakly, desperately, at the arrow.  She coughed, a horribly fluid sound.  A fine spray of blood splattered her lips, across onto her shirt, onto Willow's hands.

            "Tara, baby, d-don't try to move."

            The demon roared in triumph, moved forward to finish the job.  Almost reflexively, Willow motioned, and the demon instantly burst into flames.  It shrieked in horrible agony, and collapsed to the ground, before disappearing into nothingness.

            Tara pleaded to Willow with her eyes.  Willow, helpless, pressed her hands against the wound futily.  Tara coughed again, and Willow could hear the air damming up in her throat.  She drew in one hitching breath...another...

            Then silence.

            "No!"

            _Commercials._


	3. Act Two

_Act II_

            Jonathan finally writhed out of the robot's grip, and before either of the other two could stop him, he was out the basement door, and stumbling towards the front yard.

            Willow was kneeling over the body of the other girl, sobbing quietly.

            "Willow -" he swallowed, looked down at the black patch of burnt grass that had been the guardian demon.  He wondered if that would be him in a few moments.  But he ran towards them anyway.

            "God," he whispered sickly as he reached the two girls.  Willow was huddled into herself, eyes shut, face scrunched.  She looked as if she was in pain, and Jonathan had to check to make sure she hadn't also been hit by one of the demon's arrows.

            The blonde girl - he thought her name was Tara, but he wasn't sure - was motionless.  He could tell even from a distance that she was already dead.

            Tentatively, he reached out to put a hand on Willow's shoulder.

            He didn't know what to expect - but she turned to look at him, and it was just Willow, the teacher's pet, the nobody he remembered so fondly from high school that had finally become somebody.  She trembled perceptibly, with fear or grief or anger, he couldn't tell which.

            "Jonathan...help me..."

            He bent over, glanced over the body again, felt perfunctorily for a pulse, knowing full well that there was nothing he could possibly do to help the girl.  "Willow, I-I...I don't think -"

            She wasn't listening anymore.  She closed her eyes, mumbled in a broken voice something he recognized as Latin.  The first words of a healing spell.

            He wanted to tell her it wouldn't work.  Tara had not been killed by a spell, or a demon's poison.  The arrows the demon had used had been totally ordinary wood and metal.  He wanted to say that magic had no hand in Tara's death, and thus magic would have no hand in bringing her back.  Normal, anyway, he thought, and shuddered.  But of course Willow had to know that already.  So he remained silent.

            He didn't speak as the spell failed.  Willow tried it again, without success.  Again, like the doctors on TV, working desperately with a patient they all knew was long departed from this world.  Again, though this last time Willow's voice was weaker, the doubt and grief so heavy in her light voice that he could barely understand what she was saying.  

            Finally, she stopped speaking entirely, could only moan softly.  After a moment even that faded to nothing. 

            Lightning flashed overhead, very close - the long-awaited storms had finally arrived.  A cold wind swept down the street, gathering up the ashes of the demon and scattering them back into the night.  Jonathan looked around, wandering distantly what had taken the storm so long, and when he turned back, Willow was in the air above him, arms outstretched and hands clawed, eyes coal black and rolling with infinite energy.  He screamed in terror, but the sound was lost in the roar of thunder.  He felt an invisible hand crush the air out of his lungs, and send him flying through the air.  Some sixty feet away and across the street he slammed into the trunk of an old oak.  He slid down bonelessly to the base of the tree, motionless.

            Willow watched him fall with some kind of very remote regret, which was quickly eradicated by the raging power that flowed through her small body.  Destroying the demon had unleashed something in her, something long held in check, and now screaming to do its work.  Tara had feared this moment, Willow knew that - now she was dead and gone, and nothing stood between Willow and a shrieking, seething vengeance.    

            Andrew looked up at the security monitor uselessly.  A moment after Jonathan had run out of the room, the entire system had suddenly blanked out.  He turned to the door, still open, and now swaying slightly in the storm breeze.  

            "Warren -" he began worriedly, turning around -

            He was alone.  No, not precisely alone.  The Warrenbot smiled helpfully near the stairs.

            "Where'd he go?"

            A mechanical shrug.  Andrew made a break for the stairs, but the Warrenbot grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him around, and threw him back across the room.

            And then she swept regally into the basement.

            Willow was frowning slightly, as if the paperboy had forgotten to deliver to her house this morning. That was as far as emotion seemed to go.  Her arms were hovering at her side, fingers twitching spasmodically, dancing on the air.  Her eyes were a black, wide nothing.

            "Please..." Andrew felt nauseous.  His stomach rolled and tumbled.  "I just...I wanted..."

            She said nothing, only lifted her hand slowly.  Something snapped in the air, like electricity, and then he felt the hand, lifting him up and forward, as if he was playing the puppet to her puppeteer.  Her expression never changed.

            And then she snapped her other hand forward, and he was rocketed through the air.  His trip was a short one.  Andrew rammed to and nearly through the cement block wall of the basement, with a crunch that reverberated throughout the house.  Simultaneously, nearly every bone in his body was shattered.  He was dead before his brain could register the agony.

            The Warrenbot observed all this with a pleasant grin.  Willow turned to him, flicked her wrist.  With a violent pop, the Warrenbot's head exploded, scattering computer chips and wires around the room.  A long moment later, the body seemed to catch up with the head's destruction, and fell over, gyrating helplessly.

            Willow stared with a distant mixture of horror and dismay...and then tilted her head.  From behind her came the sound of screeching tires in the driveway.

            Warren, breathing hard, squealed out of the open garage.  The antiquated van protested underneath his feet, but he pushed, and it burst out onto the street.  He got a glimpse of the witch emerging (unscathed) from the basement, before he slammed the van into drive, and floored the gas.

            He was just beginning to regain control of himself when she appeared out of nowhere in the street directly in front of him.  By reflex, he stomped on the brakes, turning the wheel - the tires screeched, the van nearly tipped over, but after a few seconds it settled heavily on its frame.

            He was about to launch the van back into motion when the driver's side door simply fell away, clattering to the ground, and Willow was standing beside him.  He screamed, but she motioned, and he was wrenched out of the seat, onto the pavement on his knees.

            "You..." he whispered. "You can't lock me away forever.  I'll be back 

to -"

            "Shut up," she said, her voice flat and tired.  She shook her head, almost in pity, her black eyes shining with forgotten tears. "We tried to help you.  It didn't have to be this way.  But you wanted to play the game.  You wanted to be the Big Bad.  But you were lost from the beginning."

            She reached forward tenderly, as if to stroke his face, and drew an invisible pattern on his forehead with her finger.

            "Do-sal-um-ahm," she said softly, resigned.

            Warren started to melt.  His face caved in.  The agonized scream in his throat died there as his neck collapsed.  He crumpled to the ground, struggling with himself, even as what was left of his head began to seep into the pavement.  His clothes fell in, until he was nothing but a puddle of fluid.

            Willow backed away, looking up at the sky as rain began to fall.  In seconds it was a torrent.  She blinked, rubbed her eyes, but they remained dark, inhuman.  

            "It's over!" she screamed to the night.

            But she had opened the gate to whatever dark force lay at her core.  She was powerful, but not strong enough to reign it back in. 

            Buffy trudged toward home, feeling numb.  A shift at the Palace tended to do that to her.  Somehow, the feeling of grease on her hands, on her clothes, combined with the overwhelming odor of cheap, fried food, was less than invigorating.  

            She also felt sore.  Normally she couldn't do enough damage to put a dent in the reserves of Slayer strength, but at this point stress seemed to be her most formidable enemy, and her backbreaking schedule was starting to catch up with her.  More than anything the strain was mental, but her mind... that was where she had always needed the most help.

            Enter The Mind of the group.  Buffy hadn't missed the small, quickly stifled look of quasi-resentment in Willow's eyes when Buffy had asked them to look for the Trio while she was working her shift at the Palace, but of course both she and Tara had agreed readily.  Buffy wanted nothing more than for Tara and Willow to reconcile - in fact she thought privately that Tara would be the best thing for Willow right now.  Willow's urge to use magic, the need, had ebbed, but everyone knew it was still there.  Perhaps like all serious addictions it would never completely go away.  But Buffy sensed that the increasing distance between all of them had made it harder, and maybe if Willow was out there, doing something with Tara, she would be able to see the way through her problems.

            But Buffy could not help but feel some guilt at not being out there with them.  She supposed that was part of the problem - she worried too much about their safety for them to be of any real help.  If there was such a concept.

            Around her, the wind picked up, and she felt the first smattering of raindrops.  Grumbling, she started to jog toward the house, as lightning flashed in the distance.

            She ran up the stoop, shoved the door nearly off its hinges, and stood in the hallway trying to shake the water out of her hair.  The phone was ringing.

            "Dawn?" she called as she walked into the kitchen. "Dawn, are you here?"

            She picked up the phone. "Hello?"

            "Buff.  You sound soaking wet."

            "Xander.  Have you heard from Willow and Tara?"

            "Nope.  Actually, I was gonna ask you the same thing.  They were supposed to meet me to go Trio-hunting thirty minutes ago."

            Buffy frowned, and glanced down at her watch.  It was almost 9:30.  They weren't late enough to inspire first-stage wigging, but still...

            "Is Dawn with you?"     

            "No." He sounded more serious this time. "She's not at home?"

            "No."

            A cautious pause. "Do you think...is Spike..."

            "Spike's not here, either," she said, too quickly.

            "I know, but maybe they left together."

            She didn't speak for a minute.  Spike had been...distant, since she had cut it off.  Them off, for good.  She supposed she could understand why.  But that didn't meant she wanted Dawn to sneak around behind her back to see him.

            "Maybe," she said, "Can you meet me in fifteen minutes -"

            "Ah," he interrupted, sounding uncomfortable. "Might be a problem, actually, Buff.  I've, ah...got some budget stuff to go through, for the site..."

            "I got it," she said smoothly, understanding perfectly.  

            "Just call me, you know, if you're below quota on snark."

            "I will," she smiled.

            She hung up, grabbed an umbrella and walked out the door.

            She remembered suggesting to Willow that they start with the neighborhood where she thought she had been attacked.  If they were half as intelligent as they thought they were, the Trio would have moved somewhere else the moment she had accidentally stumbled on their hideout.  But if they were limited with regards to resources...

            The first thing she saw was Jonathan's body, wrapped neatly around the base of a tree.  She ran to his side.

            "Oh my God," she said, looking over him in shock.  He didn't seem to be breathing -

            But his eyes opened slightly.  He looked up, past her, as if he couldn't see.

            "Buffy?" he whispered, a broken sound.  Every syllable seemed to come out on a painful grunt of air. "Slayer..."

            "Jonathan, who..."

            He shook his head. "Should have known.  Messing...with stuff.  Saw it coming..."

            "Saw...saw what?" His words made no sense to her. "Jonathan, who did this to you?"

            He didn't seem to hear her.  "Tried to...stand up...didn't do enough."

            She looked over his body.  He didn't have a mark anywhere that she could see, but his back was bent at an impossible angle.  Something had obviously lifted him up bodily, and thrown him against the tree like a doll.  Something immensely powerful.  She glanced around at the neighborhood cautiously...

            And saw Willow across the street.

            "Jonathan," she turned back to him.  He seemed to have slipped momentarily back into unconsciousness. "Jonathan...if you can hear me, I'll be right back."

            His eyes were closed, but he nodded weakly.

            _Commercials_


	4. Act Three

_Act III_

            Willow sat in the rain, still as a statue, gently stroking Tara's damp hair.

            Buffy ran to her, looked down, took in the scene in an instant.  Behind them, she could barely see the remains of the demon, its ash outline, already almost washed completely into the ground. "Oh, no -"

            Blood.  Everywhere, on Willow's clothes, on her hands.  It told the tale, as always, like words couldn't.

            Willow looked up then, and Buffy flinched involuntarily.  Not at the sight of the eyes, black like dead coals, but the expression that framed them.  Sitting on the ground, in the middle of a rainstorm, tenderly stroking her lover's dead body, and there was no emotion on her delicate face.

            "Will," Buffy whispered, pathetic. "Will, I -"

            "Buffy," Willow said, her flat voice matching her expression. She turned back to Tara's corpse. "Did you ever dream about being a superhero?"

            Buffy was absolutely stunned.  She was prepared for any of a number of things to come out of Willow's mouth, but not this.

            "We used to pretend.  Me and Xander, and Jesse when he moved here in third grade.  Used to use old blankets, and go weaving around the back yard, Xander with his laser-beam eyes, Jesse with his super strength, me with..."

            She paused, frowned in concentration, as if trying to call up some long lost memory. "Me...I can't remember what I did.  Something...We laughed about it later, in high school.  Outgrew it, then met the real thing in tenth grade," 

            She smiled slightly at some happy memory. 

            "But back then, when we were kids...it seemed like the real thing.  At least, we couldn't tell the difference.  Somehow, we...we knew that maybe, if we practiced enough, it might happen.  Just, poof.  We'd wake up with special powers.  So we practiced."

            Her voice trembled ever so slightly. "We didn't practice for this part."

            Willow suddenly looked back at Buffy. "How did you do it?  After you had to kill Angel, how did you live?  There's so much..."

            "I..." Buffy started raspily. "I know.  I had help."

            Willow stared for a moment, then nodded slowly.

            Buffy let another moment pass, then spoke up. "Will...I'm sorry...but Jonathan's still alive.  If we can get him to a hospital -"

            "Still alive," Will said distantly, and then she turned slowly to look across the street. "He's still alive.  Amazing."

            Buffy shook her head, not knowing how to take that, but knowing intuitively that the situation was about to spiral out of her control.  "Willow, please, I know they -"

            "They killed her."  Willow said, standing up.  She started purposefully across the street.

            "Will, Tara wouldn't have wanted -"

            "How do you know what Tara would have wanted?"  Willow said stonily, gazing steadily at Buffy.  "She didn't want to die.  Isn't that enough?"

            Buffy shook her head. "Killing them isn't going to solve your problems."

            "No," Willow said, tilting her head back briefly toward the house. "It already has."

            Buffy's blood went cold at the words, but she moved to stand between Willow and Jonathan.

            "Don't get in my way, Buffy," Willow warned her icily.

            Buffy gritted her teeth, her eyes pleading.

            Without another word, Willow motioned with her hand, and Buffy felt her body lifted by hands that were as powerful as they were nonexistent.  She flew soundlessly until she crashed into a red station wagon parked in the neighbor's driveway.  The impact knocked the breath from her lungs, and for all her slayer's strength she could only watch helplessly as the scene unfolded.

            Willow stood over Jonathan's prone body.  He squinted up at her.

            "I'm sorry..." he whispered, broken.

            She nodded, raising her hand. "I know.  I'll make it quick."

            A noise from behind.  Footsteps. "Red -"

            She whirled around, an instant too late to do anything but watch as the wooden end of an axe flew towards the side of her head.  There was a blinding flash of pain, then darkness.

            Spike gazed down at the tiny, crumpled body before him, an expression somewhere between awe and sympathy on his angled features. 

            "Didn't think you had it in you, pet," he said softly, and turned to look at Buffy. "You alright?"

            She pulled herself slowly to her feet, face suffused with shock and horror.

            "Buffy..." he started uncertainly, but he didn't know what to say to ease her mind. "Pet, the boy needs to get to a doctor."

            She didn't reply, could only look down at Willow, then up at the house.

            "Buffy, wait -"

            She ran across the street, up the driveway, Spike a step behind.  She entered the basement before he did, saw the grisly display, and ran back out almost immediately, clutching her mouth.

            He walked into the basement.  Andrew was stuck on the wall like a trophy buck, already cooling.  His hunger for the blood splattered randomly over the wall made his mouth water at the sight, but the rest of him felt vaguely nauseous.  Pieces of the robot were flung here and there like party confetti, the body minus head at the bottom of the stairs, twitching weakly like a cockroach.  He backed out of the basement.

            "Slayer -"

            She was sitting on the edge of the driveway, pale as a sheet, clutching her sides.  He grabbed her shoulders, brought her up to face level. 

            "This is no time for your bloody catatonia, luv.  The boy needs to get to a hospital, or Willow's not going to have to finish the job."

            Her eyes teared up. "Willow -"

            "I'll take care of her, pet.  You tend to him."

            Behind them, Jonathan started to moan.  Buffy nodded slowly, and walked away.

            The paramedics came quickly enough so that they thought Jonathan would have a decent chance of surviving the night.  The back injury itself was not life-threatening - however, the fact that he had spent the better part of an hour lying in the middle of a rainstorm meant that the doctors were much more concerned with staving off pneumonia.  

            They hadn't asked Buffy what she knew about what had happened to him, and of course, she hadn't told them.  The police were much more concerned with the bodies of Tara Maclay and Andrew Bell found at the same scene.

            "PCP gang."

            The detective leaned forward. "Pardon?"

            "Roving gangs of dope fiends," Buffy repeated, nearly laughing despite herself. "That was what they used to say in high school.  Gang-related."

            The detective glanced back at the sergeant, who shrugged. "Well...Ms. Summers, ah, we'll look into that.  But you say you were on your way to meet Ms. Maclay?"

            Buffy nodded.

            "You both were going to meet another young woman.  This -" the detective tapped a pen on his pad. "This Willow Rosenberg?  Ms. Maclay's..." he cleared his throat. "...lover?"

            Another nod.  "She never showed up," Buffy added quickly.

            "Hmph," the detective grunted. "You have any way of contacting Ms. Rosenberg?"

            Buffy looked up at him. "Yes.  I want to talk to her as much as you do."

            Xander burst into the ER, glanced around, disheveled.  Dawn was in tow, crying silently.

            "Oh, God, Buffy, we heard -"

            The detective moved to the side respectfully, and Buffy ran into his arms, fighting back tears.  Xander held her.  Dawn watched, her expression of perpetual shock matching her sister's.

            "Buffy," Dawn said softly. "Tara..."

            Buffy closed her eyes, shook her head, as if she didn't want to say it.  But finally, her voice choked with anguish, she spit the words out. 

"Tara...she's dead."

            _Commercials_


	5. Act Four

_Act IV_

            "Dead."

            Such an ugly word.  Final.  Clinical, sterile, like a freshly mopped lab.  Or a morgue.

            Dawn shook her head in disbelief.  Odd, this refusal to accept the facts, an instinctive reaction when one could not handle the brunt of all of them at once.  

            "How...how did it happen?" Xander whispered hoarsely.

            "The Trio," Buffy said.  "Willow and Tara got too close to the house they were hiding in, and...they must have let something loose, a demon.  Tara -"       

            "Willow," Xander interrupted. "Where is she?  She's not hurt or -"

            "Willow," Buffy said distantly. "She...she's not hurt."

            "Thank God," Xander breathed.  Then he saw the look of sadness on Buffy's face. "And the bad of that is..."

            "Xander...she was there when it happened.  She just...she was holding Tara when she died.  I think s-something snapped.  Willow went crazy -"

            "Oh, no," Dawn said, the implications of what Buffy was saying hitting her first. "Magic."

            "Magic," Xander repeated, confused, and then again, horrified. "Magic.  Oh, man."

            The color drained from Buffy's face.  She started to shiver. "She slaughtered them.  Threw Andrew into the basement wall.  Through it... And Warren...Spike said...Spike could smell blood, on the road.  Like Warren j-just...melted into the asphalt, or something."

            "Where is she now?"

            "Spike knocked her out, just as she was about to...finish Jonathan off," Buffy replied. "I think he was going to try to lock her in his crypt, or something.  Until we figure out a way to calm her down."

            Xander shook his head. "His crypt.  If she...if she's really lost it, that won't hold her for long."

            "I know," Buffy said. "I'm hoping it won't have to."

            Spike shagged a cig out of his pocket, brought to his lips, and lit it, breathing in deeply.  Bad habit - he'd picked it up back when it had been the "in" thing for the American blokes, post-war, before the days of surgeon general warnings and kids making commercials with people crawling through New York with bloody rat costumes on.  Not that it mattered.  His lungs could be charcoal for all he cared.  Wouldn't change the fact that he didn't need oxygen to live.

            The redhead hadn't come around yet.  It had been an hour since he had cold-cocked her, and she hadn't made a move or a noise since.  Fine bloody thing if he had knocked her into a coma, even if she had gone crackers.

            "Spike -"

            Sudden, the sound of her voice, so sudden that he was startled into dropping the cigarette.  Cursing under his breath, he stooped over, picked up the fag, brushed it off perfunctorily, and jammed it back between his lips.

            "That you, Red?  Thought maybe I'd knocked somethin' important loose."

            Sounds of a struggle with the locked door.  "Let me out, Spike."  Commanding.  Dark.  Not like the Willow he remembered at all.  He supposed the death of loved ones did that to a person.

            "Sorry, pet.  Doctor's orders.  No murder for at least a week."

            IT'S NOT MURDER! A furious and terrified shriek that echoed only in his mind like gunshot in his ear.  He grunted in pain, stumbled away from the crypt, cig dropped again and this time forgotten.

            "Where'd you...l-learn that neat little trick, p-pet?"

            Trade secrets. she crooned, more softly, almost sensual, and still in his mind. Let me out, Spike.    

            He massaged his temples to keep the ache at a distance. "Can't.  It's for your own good."

            He could almost see her smiling at that. And since when is William the Bloody concerned about what's in anybody's best interests but his own?

            "I couldn't care less," Spike replied, a tad indignant. "But Buffy'd stake me if I let you out now."

            I could get out of here on my own.  You saw what I did to the Trio.

            "Yeah, I saw.  Nice bit o' work, that.  But somehow, I think if you really could get out of there by yourself, you'd have done it by now."

            He sensed...frustration?  A definite sharpening of her anger, at any rate.  So she wasn't all-powerful, after all.  Where the hell were Buffy and the rest of this lot?

            You're like an open book, Spike.  Humans are complicated, chaotic, thoughts flashing here and there without any rhyme or reason.  But demons...remarkably one-track.  It's very refreshing.

            He didn't know how to answer that, so he started to light another cig.

            "Open this door, Spike," she said out loud.  Again with the commands.  Getting damn tiresome.

            "Listen, luv, third time's not the -"

            OPEN THIS DOOR!

            Spike screamed at the blinding agony that filled his head, worse, much worse than anything the chip had ever done to him.  He fell to his knees, helplessly gyrating and convulsing, even as the echoes of her banshee shriek fell through all the deepest depths of his mind.  

            "Open the door," she said, this time mercifully using her real voice.  The pain subsided, slowly, in waves, from the first brilliant flash to a dull buzz, like a hive of bees stirred into slow anger.  "Open it, or the next time will shatter you like a mirror."

            Buffy walked to the cemetery, slowly, Xander and Dawn a few steps behind.  Dawn had insisted on coming with them, and Buffy hadn't stopped to argue.  In truth, Buffy wanted Dawn as far from the danger as she could get, as always, but she didn't have the strength to fight with her.  Dawn had promised to stay out of the way if...if things...

            Buffy grimaced, blinking back tears, forcing herself to look ahead of them instead of down at the ground.  Hard to think that it was Willow they were going to see.  Were going to try to calm down.  Were going to fight, if necessary.

            "Hey -"

            Some commotion, ahead.  Buffy looked up - they were nearing Spike's section of the cemetery.  She didn't want to have to fight off any minion vamps, the kind that always seemed to be around when there was trouble, but if duty called...

            As soon as it started the noise stopped.

            "What the hell was that?" Xander said.

            "Don't know," she replied worriedly, starting to run forward. "Sounded like...somebody screaming."

            _Commercials_


	6. Act Five

_On the next Buffy:_

_            Willow, wearing a form-fitting black spandex-type thing and a ponytail, fights with Buffy._

_            Giles returns - "We have to consider that she may be too far gone to save."_

_            Rack (about Buffy) - "You slice her open, I wanna count the rings, huh?"_

_            Willow (smiling) - "Count on it."_

_            Buffy and Willow struggling with something black and writhing between them._

_            The Gang disappears one by one.       _

_            Act V_

            They arrived to find Spike lying prone on the ground, moaning softly, the crypt doors open wide.

            "Spike -" Buffy said, kneeling at his side, as Xander ran into the crypt to look around. "Spike, what happened?"

            He groaned, clutching the side of his face. "Quiet...just speak...softly.  She...I dunno, she screamed at me, bloody shrieked inside my head.  Hurt like hell.  Made the...bloody chip feel like a bloody goodbye kiss on the cheek."

            "She told you to let her go?"

            "Think so...Don't even...remember doin' it.  She gone?"

            Xander ran back up to them.  "She's gone."

            "She'll go after Jonathan first.  We've got to get back to the hospital." Buffy helped Spike to his feet. "Are you alright?"

            Spike nodded, though he looked no stronger now then he had a moment ago. "I'll be fine.  Just as well we're headed for a hospital - lend a bloke some Ibuprofen for his trouble."

              They arrived back at the hospital to find the police gone.  Jonathan's condition was unchanged.  Visiting hours were over, but Buffy checked, and made sure that a security guard was posted in the vicinity of Jonathan's room.

            "So now what?" Spike said impatiently. "We're not just gonna sit here, waiting on Red to make her move first, are we?"

            "We don't have any choice," Buffy said wearily. "We have no way of knowing where she is now.  And we're not going to just hunt her down like some animal.  Whatever...whatever she is, whatever she's gotten into, she's still Willow.  Deep down.  We have to believe that."

            Spike gaped at her.  "Are you bloody serious?  You saw that basement - that's what she is now.  What she's capable of -"

            "Which is why I'm not going to confront her again unless it's absolutely necessary," Buffy said firmly. "I don't want to fight her."

            "And if it becomes necessary?  What if she walked up to us right now?  Walked or floated or whatever the hell she's doin' to move around now.  Demanded that we let her have the boy?  You're going to stand in her way?"

            Buffy looked away from his penetrating stare. "I'll do what I have to do.  Like always."

            Spike smirked nastily. "Like always.  Only this time, pet, you're not waiting for me or Angelus or the Master or Anonymous Demon number 8 to come pay the dues.  This time it's your best friend."

            Buffy turned sharply to face him, angry now. "Willow would never -"

            "Willow killed two men, Buffy!" Spike almost shouted. "You saw her - she was going to finish Jonathan off without a second thought!  She watched her lover die at their hands...Christ, I don't even know why we're against her."

            Buffy stared at him in shock.  "What?"

            "Why we're trying to protect this boy.  What do you owe him?  He killed somebody you called a friend -"

            "Jonathan didn't kill Tara!" Buffy shouted back. 

            "No, he didn't have the stones to," Spike answered hotly. "The demon they set loose on her did!  Try to imagine it, Buffy.  Put yourself in her shoes, without the Slayer strength, without the fancy fighting moves.  All by your lonesome out there, scared out of your head."  
            Why was she here?  She frowned, looked over at Xander.  He was watching out the front doors, probably as conflicted as she felt.  Waiting on their best friend to come and commit murder.  Who were they to try to stop her?  Jonathan was an innocent - of that Buffy was certain.  Almost certain.  But Tara was innocent, too, and dead.

            "You don't know how it feels, luv.  To hold your lover's hand, to watch the life ebb from their body -"

            "I know how it feels!" Buffy screamed at him.  
            "Yeah, I know.  Pain like nothing you could have imagined.  But you were the one that killed him, pet.  Imagine if it had been someone else.  Imagine if Faith had carried out her little plan to the hilt, and Angel had died before you could get the Slayer's blood in his mouth.  You had the stones to kill her even when he was alive.  How would his death have slowed you down?"

            She opened her mouth, closed it again, and then looked him squarely in the eye. "Yes, I probably would have gone after her."

            "Would've killed her?"

            She nodded reluctantly. "I'd have tried."

            "So how can you sit here and say that you're going to stop Willow from doing the same thing?"

            "I..." she started, and backed away a step.  She turned to look out the window at the parking lot.  She remembered the expression on Willow's face when she had first arrived at the awful scene of Tara's death, and realized the real reason she was protecting Jonathan tonight.

            "I've got to stop her.  I'm not protecting Jonathan from Willow - I'm protecting Willow from herself."

            Spike grimaced, shaking his head in frustration. "Why do I think Willow's got the least to worry about?"

            Buffy was silent for a moment. "What are you suggesting?"

            He looked at her steadily, unblinking, hard expression melting into something close to sympathy. "Be her friend.  Find her, cut her off, before she gets here.  You let her come here on her own, she's gonna build up a head o' steam, and nothing will stop her then.  Catch her, now, when she's still out there tryin' to make up her mind."

            It made sense. "But someone has to stay here and keep on eye on -"

            "I'll stay," Xander said quietly from the doorway.

            "No," Spike said quickly. "I'll stay.  You, Dawn, and Buffy go, she'll trust you three more then she will me."

            Buffy considered it, then nodded. "Where do we start?"

            Xander joined them. "Your house?"

            Buffy couldn't think of anything better.  Something tickled insistently at the back of her mind... 

            "We'd better get there if we're going," Xander said.  Buffy tried to drag her attention back to the situation at hand, but the tickle nagged. "Start with Buffy's house, then go from there."

            Spike was nodding in agreement.  

            _The demon..._

_            Willow was crying.  Stroking her lover's hair in the rain.  Behind, them Buffy could barely see the remains of the demon..._

            "Buff?" Xander said, touching her on the shoulder. "You okay?  I think me and Dawn are ready to go."

            _...its ash outline, almost washed completely into the ground._

_            Jonathan didn't kill her..._

_            The demon they set loose on her did!_

            "Spike..."

            They were almost out the door, and he was turning to go back into the hospital - he glanced back at her, an impatient look on his face. "Yes, luv, what is it?"

            "How..." she stopped, her throat for no reason at all suddenly tight. "How did you know it was a demon that killed Tara?"

            Pure and unadulterated shock washed over his face for an instant, and was just as quickly stuffed back into hiding.  It was so fast that the others might have missed it, not knowing what to look for - but Buffy had seen it.

            "What?"

            "How did you know?" she said, a little stronger. "You came after I did.  After the rain had already washed the ashes away.  I don't think Willow told you.  How did you know?"

            "I..." he started, backing slowly away from them, toward the hospital doors. "I...didn't know it was a demon.  I thought one of the Trio -"

            "No," Dawn said darkly. "You said it.  Buffy said Jonathan didn't kill Tara, and you said, no, the demon they set loose did."

            Spike opened his mouth, as if to argue...and then shook his head sadly.  "Tried to give you a chance, Buffy -"

            The glamour fell away, and Willow was standing between them and the hospital doors.

            "- but so be it.  I tried to get you out of the way, but you wouldn't have it.  So be it.  I would have made it quick for him.  He would have gone in his sleep.  I don't want to kill him - I didn't want to kill any of them.  But justice demands it."

            Buffy held up her hands in supplication. "We don't want to fight, Will -"

            "Then don't stand in my way.  It's very simple, really - you're either with me or against me.  I'm not evil.  I'm necessary.  You held me back before, and that's fine.  She...she held me back, too, and I understood.  It was for my own good.  I wasn't ready.  I'm ready now.  If you can't handle that...then leave.  I'm going up there now.  I'm going to take his life, the life that's rightfully mine."

            She looked at each of them in turn as she spoke, as if gauging them, until finally she came back to Buffy.   They stared at each other across the space of ten feet, and found for themselves that the other was either unwilling or unable to blink.

            "I'm going to kill him," Willow continued grimly. "And anyone that stands in my way."

            _To be continued._


	7. Part Two Teaser

_Previously on Buffy..._

_            Various scenes of Willow and Tara lovage._

_            Willow holding Tara's body._

_            Willow floating in the air above Jonathan, tossing him into the tree._

_            Andrew and Warren biting the big one._

_            Buffy and the rest with Jonathan in the hospital.  "I'm not protecting Jonathan from Willow - I'm protecting Willow from herself."_

_            "Spike" melting into Willow. "I'm going to kill him.  And anyone that stands in my way."_

_            "Red" --- Part Two_

_Teaser._

            "You can't mean that, Will," Buffy said, horrified.

            Willow continued to stare. "Don't test me, Buffy.  Stay out of my way, and we won't have to find out."

            "Don't say that, Willow," Buffy pleaded, her voice close to breaking. "It doesn't have to be this way.  Jonathan...he's c-crippled for life, Will.  He's never going to walk again.  Isn't that enough of a punishment?"

            Willow's black eyes narrowed. "You don't get it.  None of you do.  None of you can.  If she was still alive, if she was crippled like he is...that would be better.  I would give anything to have her back, crippled or brain dead or anything.  But she's not coming back, short of...she's not coming back.  This isn't about punishment.  He could go to jail for the rest of his life, and that would be punishment enough for me.  This is about vengeance."

            "Willow, please...i-if Tara were here, she -"

            Willow shook her head sadly. "We've already been through this, Buffy.  Leave now."

            Buffy's mouth opened, but nothing came out.  It was at this point in her fights that the conflict went from words to blows.  She could talk and she could stall and deliberate for as long as she wanted - but the fact was that she was not a diplomat.  She wasn't used to using words to get herself out of trouble.  Perhaps she had finally run out of words to say.

            And suddenly she could see that there was no right in this situation.  She would be damning herself to believe otherwise.  There was only gray playing on gray, a battle of shadows.  Both sides could duel to the end of time and they would end up in the same place - cold and afraid and face to face with someone they used to call friend.  No, there was no correct way to handle this situation - but there were plenty of wrong ones.  For better or worse, the time for decisions was at hand.

            She shook her head. 

"I can't do that, Willow," and Buffy was surprised at the strength in her own voice. 

            Willow nodded solemnly. "I know."

            Without warning, Willow motioned with her right hand, and Buffy felt herself flying through the air.  Gracefully, she turned it into a flip, and managed to land in a crouch twenty feet from where she had started.  Immediately, she started to run forward.  Willow motioned again, but Buffy stayed low and fought through the invisible blow, like a football player plowing through behind the line.  Buffy led with her right fist, aiming for the soft spot below Will's ribs, but was astounded when Willow chopped downward with superhuman speed to block the blow.  Reflexively, almost instinctively, she reached up to block Willow's incoming right hook, and managed to send her foot up and into the pit of Willow's stomach.  Willow stumbled backward, but was up in a fighting stance almost immediately. 

            Buffy moved slowly around, trying to gauge Willow's newfound abilities.  Just by the first few blows exchanged, Buffy sensed that physically they were almost evenly matched.  The one thing she hoped she might be able to count on was the fact that while she, as the Slayer, had spent years practicing with this kind of physical prowess, Willow had only now begun to use it.  Immediately her strategy changed from incapacitation to defense - she would concentrate on guarding the door and Jonathan rather than trying to take Willow down.  She didn't want to risk trying to knock Willow out in a fight without knowing first whether or not the blow would be fatal.

            Willow gave her no more time to think.  She darted forward with a furious attack, made all the more menacing by the hideous blankness of her black eyes.  A flurry of blows traded later, and both of them had begun to breath heavily.  Sweat began to bead on her eyebrows, but Buffy dared not take the few seconds needed to wipe it away.

            She risked a glance over to the side - Xander and Dawn were watching the fight with desperate unhappiness.  Xander tensed, waiting for the right moment to join in the fracas, and Buffy wanted to warn him not to try.  She wondered if the other two realized just how powerful Willow had become, that strength for strength and blow for blow she was the Slayer's match.  Xander trying to be heroic would only get him hurt.  Or worse.

            Willow leapt forwards again, constantly the aggressor.  Buffy leapt back a commensurate step, ducked under Willow's massive swing, and chopped at Willow's exposed side.  The redhead doubled over in pain, then motioned with her hand.  Buffy felt the power sweep over her again, and she stumbled back, but noticed with some relief that it was weakened from the first time Willow had thrown her.

            Buffy swept her foot out, trying to trip Willow as she was regaining her balance.  Willow jumped just in time to avoid the kick, and grabbed Buffy by the shoulders as the Slayer was getting up from the ground.  Willow twisted on her feet, and Buffy flew through the hospital window.  One of the night nurses screamed for the security guard, as Buffy climbed slowly to her feet.

            Willow glanced fearfully at the guards moving their way. "You don't want...them involved...any more than I do, Will," Buffy breathed. "End it."

            Willow considered, and stepped out of the fighting posture. "I'll stop.  For the moment.  But this is far from over, Slayer."            

            She closed her eyes, crossed her hands over her chest, and whispered words that none of them recognized - 

            - and then, in a swirl of black smoke, she was gone.

            Buffy stared at the space, amazed. "Oh, my God."

            Xander grabbed her by the arm. "Buffy..."

            Sirens wailed in the distance, coming closer.

            "Buffy, we have to leave now!"

            She didn't resist as Xander dragged her away from the scene.

            _Credits._


	8. Act One

_Act I_

            The man in the tweed suit made his way carefully through the crowded airport terminal, clinging to his inbred sense of civility in the mass.  It was no mean struggle, but he was a man used to struggle in many forms.  He was glad he had packed lightly, just his briefcase and a duffel bag, which at the moment he was using as a shield to plow his way though the crowd.  

            Finally, after an interminable length of time, after a thousand excuse _me's_ and pardon's, he found his way to an exit.  He fingered the collar of his dress shirt - though it had been pleasant enough on the plane trip over, the heat of the bustling crowds in the terminal had induced a light sweat, and already he could feel that the night air ahead was indecently (and quite typically) warm, foretelling another hot summer.  When he had last left it had been just the opposite - a cooler breeze off of the mountains, with the veiled promise of what passed for a cold winter in this part of the world.  Only a few months, he knew clinically, but oh, what had happened in his absence...

            He tried to forcibly remove the anxiety from his face.  There would be a time and a place for that later.  No need to indulge himself before -

            "Giles!"  
            He turned at the sound of his name, to her, the reason for his visit, and was thunderstruck.  She looked ragged, even more so then when he had left.  Her hair was done in a careless ponytail, the eyes bloodshot and bruised, her clothes (so typically the one vanity of her otherwise almost viceless personality) disheveled.  But she smiled, a slight expression, so much unhappiness in it that it was hardly a smile at all.  He smiled back, walked to her, took her in his arms as she started to sob, not for the first time and certainly not for the last.

            Giles listened carefully as she filled him in, detail after horrible detail.  He knew most of it already, of course - but it was useful to hear it from a fresh perspective.

            Tara.  Such a beautiful creature, to be cut down just at the time she was of the most use, as a lover, as a surrogate mother.  Giles remembered her as the most centered of the young ones, the most adult, though in many ways she also seemed to be the most fragile and sensitive.  To have her leave them in such an offhand and careless manner...it made him sick.

            The Trio.  He remembered Jonathan, of course, and Warren in the sort of way that he remembered all the minor foes they had faced and vanquished together on what had seemed like a nightly basis.  The other boy he hadn't known, and, he supposed somewhat coldly, now never would.  Funny how before they had seemed like a nuisance, a bother to be handled in the course of a weekend and forgotten.  They were human, and yet they had managed to do what some of the most powerful forces ever to set foot on the planet had failed to do - they had killed someone that the Slayer had called a friend.

            "I want to be angry," Buffy said in a very small voice. "They murdered her.  In cold blood, just because she was where they didn't want her to be.  But, God...I c-can't.  After all the nastiness I've seen as a Slayer...what I saw...when I saw what she had done..."

            Her voice had broken then, and she hadn't spoken again the whole way to the Summers home.

            It was a bittersweet homecoming, to say the least.  Xander and Dawn greeted him at the doorway, Dawn with a peck on the cheek, Xander with a strong handshake that melted into a brotherly hug.  Like Buffy, Dawn's eyes were red and puffy from shed and unshed tears.  He supposed that in her own way Dawn was feeling a grief equal to Buffy's own.  In the wake of Joyce's passing, Willow and Tara had served as surrogate parents in the ways that Buffy couldn't as Dawn's sister.  He thought that the loss of two (and now, he thought grimly, perhaps three) such motherly figures might very well have shattered many girls Dawn's age.  

            The signs of strain were less obvious in Xander, but after years of association, Giles could tell they were there.  Giles thought Xander would feel Tara's loss in the way he felt the loss of any mere friend, with a relatively remote sort of sorrow.  But having to face Willow, with whom he had been best friends for far longer then they had known either Buffy or Giles, would be potentially devastating.  And his own personal problems (Giles had heard from Buffy's phone call of a few weeks previous the story of the wedding fiasco) were icing on the cake.

            Buffy wanted to get directly into business.  It was very obviously a case of self-diversion, but he supposed it was understandable.  In any case, he acquiesced.

            "My thoughts on the plane ride over," he started. "Willow...is in a very fractious state of mind right now.  I think that she does not want to harm any of us.  But her feelings for us are secondary now to her feelings about Jonathan.  She believes fully that she is in the right, and that we, despite our good intentions, are in the wrong.  She has opened the door to something very powerful and now she can't close it."

            "So it's a possession thing," Xander said quickly. "Will's not in control."

            "No," Buffy said quietly. "No, it's her."

            Giles nodded sadly. "She is in connection with this...this dark power, from outside, but she wants to be.  She is bending it to her will, not the reverse."

            "But it's been three days," Dawn broke in. "Why she hasn't she tried again?"

            "I expect she has," Giles said. "There is too much security in the hospital.  She is powerful enough, conceivably, to force her way in, but I suspect she wants at all costs to avoid a confrontation of that nature."

            "So she's just waiting?" Xander said. 

            "She's willing to bide her time," Giles responded. "She's...simmering, for now."

            "Where's all this power coming from?" Buffy said. "If we can find the source, we can cut it off."

            "She's a very powerful witch," Giles said hesitantly. "It's conceivable that she is drawing solely from within herself, from the spells she has managed to pick up over the course of the last few years, particularly this last year."

            Buffy nodded expectantly, sensing the unexpressed thought. "But -"

            "But," he continued, "I would tend to think that is not the only power source she's drawing from.  These magicks she is dealing with are very primordial, very dark."

            "The darkest," Buffy said, her voice dead. "Warren and Andrew can attest to that."

            "Yes," Giles said, troubled. "The problem is we haven't the faintest idea where to start.  This power source could be anything, anywhere.  We're standing on the Hellmouth, after all, one of the most intense concentrations of evil in the entire world.  The problem is not so much tapping into it as harnessing it.  Even in Sunnydale evil is...diffuse, diluted.  It would be like trying to draw drinking water from the ocean.  It's possible, but in the end you usually expend more energy than you gain."

            "Will got her power before from that guy in town, Rack," Xander said. "Maybe she's gone back to him."

            Buffy shook her head. "What she was doing before isn't anything like what she's doing now.  Rack needs his head stuffed on somebody's mantle, but...I don't think he's capable of supplying her like this."

            "Whoever, or whatever, it is," Dawn broke in gravely, "I think it's safe to assume it's more powerful than anything we've ever had to face."

            They turned to look at her quizzically.

            "What?" she said, frowning. "What?"

            "'More powerful then anything we've ever had to face'?" Buffy said doubtfully, one eyebrow raised. "Don't think you're exaggerating a little bit, there, Dawnie?"

            "Well...I mean, Willow's the Big Bad, ahhh," Dawn answered, waving her hands half-heartedly in front of her chest. "M-maybe it sounded better in my head."

            "Wherever...it...may rank on the Dawn scale of evil," Giles continued dryly, "that power source is the key.  If we can cut it off we might be able turn Willow away from the path she's on."

            Buffy nodded, rising.

            "But..." Giles stopped her, his tone dark. "We have to consider that she may be too far gone to save."

            "I have considered it."

            "Have you?" Giles responded doubtfully.

            She gave him a stare full of ice. "This isn't the first time we've had to make decisions like this.  That I've had to fight someone I love."

            "This is not quite the same thing," Giles replied softly. "If it were just a matter of a missing soul, it would be easier.  But Willow knows exactly what she's doing.  Even if she is mad with grief and rage...she is still Willow."

            "That's exactly why we have to find her."

            "Which brings us crashing back to, how do we do that?" Xander asked.

            "Rack," Buffy replied. "Even if she hasn't been to him, with his connections he ought to know where she's been."

            "What about Spike?" Giles asked.

            Buffy's face tightened. "If he's alive...we can worry about him later.  Now, Rack."

            "She hasn't been here, Slayer."

            "Not so much what I asked.  Do you know where she's been?"

            He finished lighting the last candle in a circle and blew out the matchstick. "Sorry.  Learned my lesson.  I'm reformed.  This stuff's purely medicinal -"

            As he turned with a crooked smile on his face, she grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him up against the wall.  

            "Gonna have to cut you off, there, friend," Buffy gritted. "Normally I'm all for the playful banter before the big fight sequence.  But this time, I don't know, my heart's just not in it."

            She twisted him around and threw him to the ground.  Before he could move, she knelt on his back, and grabbed his hand.

            "I think we just go straight to the finger-snapping round."

            "Alright, alright," he mumbled, face pressed against the ground. "She hasn't been back to me, but she has been making waves.  She's got everything within a hundred miles hopping.  Everything with a healthy nightlife, if you know what I mean."

            "Where's she getting her power?"

            "I don't know," he answered, and she twisted his arm, making him groan. "I don't know!  Anything with a little darkness is fair game.  We're on top of the Hellmouth, for God's sake.  She could turn the world to cinders from here if she wanted to."

            Buffy looked up at Giles and Xander briefly.

            "Leave town, Rack," she said finally, standing up. "You don't have this place dismantled within a week, we'll dismantle it for you."

            "Yeah, sure, sure," Rack answered, rubbing his arm. "Hey, if you do see her, tell her to look old Rack up.  Remind her who her friends are -"

            Buffy whirled around and sent a right hook into Rack's face.  He crumpled to the floor, cursing and gingerly probing around his battered nose.

            "Count on it," she said disgustedly.  The three of them left.

            "Bitch," Rack said, shaking his head, as blood flowed from his broken nose.  He sat up, grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket. "You cut her open, I wanna count the rings, huh?"

            Willow stepped out of the back room, smiling. "Count on it."

_            Commercials_


	9. Act Two

_Act II_

            "He was lying," Buffy said as they rode home quickly in Xander's car.

            "I think we all expected that," Giles responded, fiddling idly with his glasses. "The question is, to what end?"

            "She's been there," Buffy said. "Or he went to her.  He's a leech, h-he preys on people more powerful than he is."

            "So that stuff about Will feeding off of darkness," Xander said, "just so much smokescreen, right?"

            "That's something I'm not so sure about," Buffy replied. "It makes a lot of sense.  Too much.  She sucks the juice out of that guardian demon that killed Tara, and she slaughters the Trio.  She drains Spike, and she's able to keep us guessing and then fight me to a draw."

            "But if Rack is working for Willow, what incentive did he have a few minutes ago to tell us the truth?"

            "Oh, you'd be surprised how convincing that little arm twist is," Buffy said with a melancholy smile. "But I think he thought he was being vague enough to throw us off."

            "Why even throw the dart that close?" Xander shook his head. "Why not say she's tapped into some ancient Mayan coppertop or something?"

            "At some point this second-guessing becomes pointless," Giles broke in. "I'm inclined to agree with Buffy's supposition about Willow's power source."

            "Wow," Buffy breathed. "I almost forgot how cool it felt to have you agree with me."

            "Hmm," Giles flashed her a brief smile before his expression turned serious again. "However, if you are correct, I cannot imagine a way to stop her."

            Buffy was shaking her head.  

            "Her ability to drain must be finite.  I mean, she weakened a lot towards the end of our fight at the hospital.  If she's only able to drain one vamp at a time -"

            "The problem is, we have no idea if she is constrained that way," Giles said. "She may very well be able to drain as much darkness as she desires at any given time.  She may also have not yet discovered the extent of her abilities, in which case it is still imperative that we find her sooner rather than later."

            "So if you wanted to juice a couple of vampires for some fresh-squeezed black mojo, where do you think you'd go?" Xander asked.

            "The graveyard," Buffy replied, snapping her fingers. "I mean, there's a reason why I go there when I patrol."      

            "And the younger the vampire, the easier it probably is to drain," Giles agreed.

            They pulled into the driveway of the Summers house.

            "So what do we do?" Xander spoke up. "Round up every vamp in the graveyard and tell them to please not approach any redheads wearing black spandex?"

            "I think we have to cut Willow away from her power source, not vice versa," Giles said as they climbed out of the car and started towards the front door. "The more we can narrow down the search area, the less time it will take to reach Willow."

            "Weapons, Xander," Buffy said briskly. "Keep it covert.  A shiny new battle axe in my hands doesn't exactly say 'I love you, why don't you stop sucking up dark power'."

            Dawn met them at the front door. "What's the word?  What did Rack say about Willow?"

            "More than he wanted to," Buffy answered. "We may be on to something, Dawnie.  Giles..."

            "Yes?"

            "Just in case...we can't talk her out doing this..."

            "We'll need a contingency plan," Giles finished grimly. "I understand."

            "Could it be the cemetery's even more quiet than usual?" Buffy remarked as she and Xander made the round.

            "Silence being among the many things not so good about walking in a graveyard in Sunnydale at night."

            Buffy nodded. "Funny, before tonight I wouldn't have been able to imagine the situation where I'd be trying to stop something that's draining the evil out of a bunch of vampires in the area."

            "It's always something new, isn't it?" Xander said. "Leave it to the Big Bad to be horribly, horribly creative."

            They walked for a few minutes in silence.

            "What are we gonna say to her?" Xander said softly. "I mean...what can we say?"

            "I pretty much ran out of words at the hospital," Buffy replied sadly. "I wasn't built to do that.  Negotiate.  It's not usually something I'm asked to do.  Maybe it's the only thing Giles didn't train me to handle.  Just to talk the problem away."

            "But it's something the rest of us can do just as well," Xander said. "From where I'm sitting we're all in this for the count."

            "So what are you going to say?"

            "I was just thinking about when we were kids, in kindergarten," Xander said, looking down at his feet. "Will broke one of her crayons, yellow, I think it was.  She was about to really lose it, but she wouldn't tell anybody."

            "Come along way, hasn't she?" Buffy said.

            "Yeah," Xander replied. "I was gonna tell her how much we all care about her.  About how much I love her, how much I need her."

            He kicked a rock off of the path as his nostalgic smile melted into a frown of frustration. "Yeah, then I suppose I was gonna watch her laugh maniacally and tear my arms off."

            "Well, it might be a little late for the 'I love you so much' finale," Buffy said, patting him on the arm. "We don't know.  But it's good to remind ourselves why we're doing this."

            Something moved in the path ahead of them, moaning.  Buffy brought the flashlight around to shine on it, and gaped in amazement. 

            "Spike!"

            "But why here?" Rack said. "I mean...besides the obvious..."

            "This is where it started," Willow answered flatly. "Why not?"

            Rack opened his mouth, then shrugged. "Suit yourself.  Just a shade to ruined for my taste.  Maybe it's just me..."

            They picked their way carefully through the burnt wreckage.

            "This was before my time," Rack started again, motioning around at the blackened building. "Your handiwork?  D'you get a B+ instead of an A in Calculus, and decide to get even?"

            She turned toward him suddenly, so quickly that he stumbled back, shivering a bit.         

            "You just don't understand, do you?" she hissed, black eyes squinting dangerously. "None of you do.  This is an eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth.  When I'm finished with the boy, this will all melt away.  I'm going to reshape the world the way it should be.  The way she would've wanted it to be.  No pain, no death.  Just peace.  It will be a paradise."

            "S-sweet," Rack responded shakily. "Strawberry f-fields forever."

            She stared at him for a long, silent moment, then cocked an eyebrow at him, smiling.

            "Exactly," she agreed. "I'll be a goddess.  And...if she's still alive after tonight...Buffy will be at my right hand.  She's been the world's guardian long enough to have earned it.  But her time is past due. Now it's my turn."

            "The Slayer?" Rack said, shaking his head. "That self-righteous bitch?  Why the hell do you want her -"

            Willow made a motion with her hands, and before Rack could finish expressing the thought, he was flying bodily through the air.  He slammed into the far wall and collapsed to the floor, burned plaster crumbling around him.

            "Don't make the mistake of underestimating the Slayer," Willow said flatly. "I need you to hold her off until I finish the spell.  Once things get going, she's going to catch on pretty quick.  I think I can handle her regardless, but you'll be the first line of defense."

            He stumbled to his feet, coughing, blood streaming from a gash in his forehead.

            "You asked who was responsible for all this," Willow continued, turning back the way she had been going. "As a matter of fact it was Buffy, with a little help from her friends.  We destroyed somebody trying to become something he wasn't."

            She grinned up at the night's sky. "I'm going to pick up where he left off."

            They walked on, past a sign that lay in tatters on the floor.

SUNNYDALE HIGH

GRADUATING CLASS OF '99

GOOD LUCK!

            _Commercials_


	10. Act Three

_Act III_  

            "I can't even tell if he's still...uh...around, or not."

            "Well, he's not breathing."

            "Most vamps don't, hmm?"

            Spike opened his eyes, blinked at the bright light of the flashlight.  

            "Are you alright?" Buffy said.

            "Yeah," he rasped in response.  He swallowed slowly. "Just...weak."

            "What happened?"

            He shook his head slowly, sluggishly trying to sit up.  They helped him to a sitting position.

            "She kept me locked up in Wolf-boy's old pen...stole my face.  I'm assumin' the trick didn't hold up long?"

            "Longer than it should have," Buffy said. "But no, she hasn't gotten to Jonathan yet."

            Spike grabbed his head. "Head's bloody pounding."

            "Did she...steal something from you?  Drain you, or something?"

            He gave her a strange look. "Don't know.  Wasn't in my head quite right for a coupla days there.  But I feel like a bloody rag doll now.  Whatever she did to me knocked me for a good loop."

            "How did you get away from her?" Xander asked.

            "She hasn't been back to the cage in a few hours.  We managed to pick the lock and crawl out."

            Buffy and Xander exchanged a look. 

            "'We'?"

            "Yeah.  Me and a coupla vamps, a H'shai demon.  Rum lot to hang around with for three days, I'm telling you."

            "And all of you together couldn't manage to force the door?"

            "No," Spike said, shaking his head. "Maybe there's somethin' to this draining business.  We were lollin' around that cage like bloody newborn puppies in a basket."

            "That must be it," Giles said a while later in the Summers living room. "She was keeping demons locked up so she could come back and forth any time she wished and...feed, as it were, on their dark energies.  Could you tell if she was trying to a-accomplish anything else?"

            Spike shrugged, cradling a mug of warm blood. 

            "She's not just going after Jonathan, now, is she?" Buffy said, looking at Giles.    

            Giles gave her a look of empathy and sadness. "It may very well be that she will not stop with Jonathan.  She may not be able to.  She is controlling these dark forces, but only to the extent that she is using them as she desires.  Such a prolonged exposure may be warping her mind."

            Buffy absorbed this in silence.

            "It is hard to say at what point she will be unable or unwilling to turn away from the path she's chosen for herself," Giles continued quietly. "We may still be able to save her."

            "This morning you were telling me that we might be able to save her, but that we have to consider the possibility that she's gone too far," Buffy smirked sadly, turning away to look out the window at the darkness. "Now it's the other way around.  Not the kind of progress I wanted to make today."

            "Buffy," Dawn said. "If there's even a chance, we've got to try to turn her back.  We owe her that much."

            "For better or worse," Giles agreed. "If we are all there together...then perhaps she will see how much she means to the world as she was."

            The house began to shake.  The lights flickered; somewhere in the house something fell to the floor and shattered.  They all gaped at each other with fear and dawning comprehension.  The quake ended as abruptly as it had begun, leaving them all breathless.  Somewhere in the night a siren wailed.

            "My...my God," Buffy whispered. "She's opening the Hellmouth."

            "There are, at least in principle, several ways to open the Hellmouth," Giles said slowly. "The only similarity being the earthquake which precedes by several hours the event itself.  The Master's way was long and very difficult, but it requires a minimum of resources.  The ritual our Gvark demon friends used was more expedient, but it requires some sacrifices on the part of the performer of the ritual.  I tend to think that Willow will choose neither."

            "What do you think she's going to do?" Buffy asked.

            "Here," Giles said, pointing at a page in one of his tomes. "The Ritual of the Pit.  In actuality it's more of a spell than a ritual.  The caster summons one of the demons of the pit, purebred, straight from the hell dimension beneath Sunnydale.  In the effort to reach its new master, this demon crawls through the Earth's crust until it reaches the surface -"

            "Opening the Hellmouth in the process," Buffy finished grimly. 

            "It requires enormous energy to focus the spell once it is cast.  A specific demon must be called, and these demons are notoriously hard to control."

            "What's she going to do with this beastie when it's done tearing her a new Hellmouth?" Xander said.

            "I rather think she doesn't care," Giles said listlessly. "What happens to the demon once it is set free on the world is secondary in importance to her access to the Hellmouth, and the power it will bring her."

            "What kind of power are we talking about?" Buffy asked, though she looked as if she wasn't sure she wanted an answer.

            "Unimaginable," Giles answered, voice haunted. "With her innate abilities as a witch...the world would be at her command."

            Buffy stood up.  "Where can she perform this spell?"

            Giles flipped through some more pages. "The first part of the spell can be performed anywhere.  I suspect that the earthquake means that she has finished that.  But to actually summon the demon, she will go to the thinnest part of the Earth that separates us from the hell dimension."

            "The old school," Buffy said.

            "Precisely," Giles responded. "This creature will then crawl up through the Earth's crust, resulting in a gash that will be her outlet...to all the darkness she desires."

            "We're leaving," Buffy said, gathering up supplies.

            "'We'?" Dawn said. "Is that an all of us together kind of 'we'?"

            Buffy stared for a few seconds, finally nodded. 

            "Yippee!" Dawn shouted, then calmed down when Buffy gave her a look. "I mean, seriously, time to go...put a stop to this...um, madness."

            "She was your friend, too, Dawn," Buffy said. "Don't mistake this for fun."

            Dawn's face lost the excitement of a few seconds before. "I know."

            Buffy looked at all of them. "We're going to try talk her out of this.  We're going to remind her of how much we care about her.  But if that doesn't work, and the odds are getting better that it won't, our job is still to stop her.  I'm her best friend, but if it comes down to it, I'm going to kill her.  It's not the Willow we knew.  She's out of control."

            They all nodded, faces pale.

            "Spike?" Buffy continued, and the blonde vampire gave her a square look. "You up to some action?"

            "Give me another mug like this, and I'll be ready."

            Buffy nodded. "Load up."

            They all stood up, picked up supplies, and moved toward the door.  Buffy stopped Spike on the way out, making sure Dawn wasn't within hearing distance.

            "I need you to take care of Dawn," Buffy said. "She's your responsibility.  Can you do this thing for me?"

            "Have I ever given you a reason to believe I wouldn't?" he replied.

            Buffy shook her head.

            "Then let's get moving, Slayer."

            They pulled into the deserted parking lot beside the ruins of what had once been Sunnydale High School.  Buffy got out, Spike and Xander just behind, Giles and Dawn in the rear.  They could only stare for a moment.

            "Steady," Buffy said, trying to remain calm just as she wanted the others to be calm.

            But something was happening.  They could all feel it, something crawling like ants over their bodies.  Buffy could feel the hairs on the back of her neck straighten and stand away from her skin.  She felt the instinctive desire to flee well up inside her, and repressed it with an effort.  Lights flashed inside the old, decrepit shell of a building; noises came and went like a dicey radio signal, noises that sounded unnervingly like distant screams.

            "Steady," she repeated, and started to walk forward.  The rest of them followed suit. "Giles -?"

            "I'm here," he said from the back, juggling a handful of books.

            "The contingency plan is in place?"

            "It's ready," he replied. "I might be better assured of the results if a more experienced warlock was on hand to -"

            "Can't be helped, Giles," Buffy cut him off. "You'll do fine."

            She imagined she heard another sound, a monstrous slithering, as if something impossibly large was moving through the ground beneath them.  She hoped it was only her imagination for now.  If she could help it that was the way it would stay for good.

            "Enter, all those who seek knowledge," she whispered fiercely, then started to run.

            _Commercials_

_            Act IV_


	11. Act Four

_Act IV_

            "Giles, can you set up shop here?" Buffy said loudly as they entered the remains of the school near the cafeteria. "Or do you need to be closer?"

            Giles had to strain to hear over the unearthly shrieks and moans that permeated the place. "This should be fine.  Just keep her attention for a few minutes."

            "Got it," she answered. "Xander, you and Spike come with me.  Dawn, stay with Giles."

            Dawn nodded.

            "Giles, don't take too long."

            He was already setting the ingredients on the ground.  "Go on.  Be careful."

            She started to walk carefully through the tangled debris, Xander and Spike just behind her.

            "Slayer!"

            Rack stepped out of the shadows menacingly. "No further, Slayer.  The red head's got some big plans for the world, and I'll be damned if you're gonna stick your big -"

            She kept on walking toward him.  He backed up uncertainly, started to mumble an incantation, but before he could finish, she stepped into a right hook.  The blow lifted him off of his feet and sent him crashing through the plaster wall.  He crumpled to the floor, moaning.

            "Sorry, friend," Buffy said, hardly pausing. "I've seen better."

            She found the stairs and looked up.

            "Willow's up there," she shouted.  Around them the cacophony of tormented souls was getting louder. "This school's liable to completely collapse any minute now.  Just be as careful as you can where you're walking."

            They started up.

            "Nom casa se tano," Giles said in monotone, waving a bone over the small fire he had set on the tile floor. "Re tano con."

            Dawn looked around, shivering.  The air was starting to move around them, blowing the plaster dust up and around in dusty clouds.  The meager flames that Giles had managed to produce for the spell wavered, threatening to go out completely.  She stood up, tried to huddle around the fire to shelter it from the growing wind.

            "Willow!"  
            The red head was mouthing something, hands outstretched, eyes closed, face upturned to the sky.  Light, red light, cascaded up from below them towards the sky.  The sounds of anguish whirled around them, making Buffy want to scream herself.

            "Spike, you go around that way!" Buffy shouted, pointing left. "Xander, go right!"

            They both nodded, spreading out.  They had discussed this in the car - Willow might be able to keep them away with her magic if they were bunched together, but if they spread out in different directions, she might be only able to force one of them away at a time.

            Willow turned on her heel to look at them. 

            "You're right on time, Buffy," Willow shouted, smiling pleasantly, though the expression didn't make it to her coal-black eyes. "Thought it was about time we really celebrated the Mayor's demise.  We didn't do it right three years ago.  Just that quiet little party, friends and family only."

            She motioned around at the din of moaning voices. "I invited a few more guests this time!"

            "Willow, stop this!" Buffy shouted passionately. "It's not too late to change your mind!  You're going to destroy us all if you open the Hellmouth.  Is that the vengeance you wanted?"

            "I can handle it, Buffy," Willow answered. "Lay down your arms, leave while you still can, and I'll take care of everything!"

            "Will, this thing you're bringing up," Xander shouted from the side, "it's going to wreak havoc!"

            "I can control it!" Willow answered. "When I tap into the Hellmouth, there'll be nothing I won't be able to do."

            "You won't be able to bring Tara back!" Spike said then, and she whirled on him furiously. "That's what all this noise is really about, isn't it, Red?  All this pomp and circumstance?  You're gonna be the next thing from God if you do this, and you're still not gonna be able to do the one thing you really wanna do.  Bring back your girl!"

            "She was everything!" Willow seethed. "Everything!  Taken away from me because three little boys wanted to play grown-up!  They deserved all the agony I gave them and more!"

            "And it's over now, Will!" Buffy shouted. "You've got no other reason to fight!"

            Willow smiled benevolently, the expression of one who is well beyond reason. 

            "Wrong, Buffy.  I've got a whole new set of them."

            The ground shook again, and this time the sound of something moving through the dirt beneath them was all too real.

            "Witness my Ascension!" Willow said, turning back to the red light.

            Buffy motioned, and the three of them charged forward.  Quicker than the eye could follow, Willow turned to meet them.  A flick of the wrist, and Xander was doing a somersault backward through the air.  The floor gave way beneath him as he hit, and he tumbled down on to the lower level.

            Spike caught her across the face with a hard left cut, but she managed to duck under his right, and kick him in the stomach.  Before he could recover, she sent him flying through the wall, to land dazed on the other side.

            Buffy torpedoed into the fight, catching Willow in the stomach and landing a hard right to the face.  She pressed the advantage mercilessly, thoughtlessly, aware that the moment she let up she would be at the mercy of the invisible forces at Willow's command.

            A punishing series of blows sent the witch reeling back.  Willow blocked a hard right but couldn't duck under another left, and Buffy's punch fell hard across the other girl's jaw.  The red head fell back, wiping blood from her mouth.           

            "I don't have time for this," Willow said darkly, and waved her hand.  Buffy braced, felt nothing, then realized too late that Willow hadn't been trying to move her away.  Instead the beam over Buffy's head shifted and started to fall.  Buffy scrambled to get out of the way, but caught a glancing blow on the shoulder that slammed her forward into the floor, dust billowing.

            Willow motioned again, and now Buffy felt herself lifted up off the ground.  She flew towards the wall, managed to turn her body facing back first, but collided.  She went through the wall, and finally slid to a stop in another room, her back a knot of agony.

            "Hey -"

            Willow whirled just in time to see Spike swinging a broken board towards her before she caught it right in the pit of her stomach.  She doubled over, breath gone, and Spike kicked upward, kneeing her in the face.  She tumbled backward, managed to roll to her feet, though she was more noticeably more unsteady.

            "Dead thing," she breathed huskily, her voice not much like Willow's at all.  Blood was streaming from a cut on her cheek, and she paused only a moment to wipe it away, leaving a bloody smear like a perverse badge of honor. "Dance, corpse."

            Spike's head snapped back, and he screamed, grabbing blindly at his temples.  Blood dripped from his ears as he staggered back, convulsing helplessly.  Willow motioned, and, limp as a rag doll, he was catapulted backward, down, and through a hole in the floor.

            Buffy had managed to climb painfully back to her feet, but she could only tense as Willow turned back around to face her, hands ready.

            "Now, Buffy, I'm gonna make this quick."

            She motioned...and nothing happened.  Dumbfounded, she tried it again, with the same result.

            Buffy took advantage of the momentary confusion, and ran forward.  She jumped, leading with her foot, catching Willow prone.  She punched down with the right, again, then followed with a left undercut.  Willow fell backward, but rolled to her feet before Buffy could do any more damage.  She blocked another right, and slammed her fist into the pit of Buffy's stomach.  She stepped into a sweeping right hook, and Buffy fell back, bleeding from the lip.

            "So Giles is around, too," Willow said, nodding. "That'd explain the no-mojo mojo that just spared you for a few seconds.  Well, I guess it's only fair he receive his helping of the stuff I'm dealing to you."

            "No se rano togam," Giles whispered. "Rahn togam mo -"

            Suddenly the breeze stiffened, and the flames in front of him died.  His eyes widened for an instant, and then he flew backward, landing against the wall with a dull thud.  He slumped forward, limp, eyes closed.

            "Giles!" Dawn screamed, running to his side. 

            Willow opened her eyes, smiling with satisfaction, and walked back toward the red light.

            "This has been diverting, Buffy," she said conversationally. "I'll try to forget what you've done after it happens.  But please don't try to stop me after I open this gate.  I'll crush you like a can."

            Buffy staggered to her feet. "I can't let you do this, Will.  It's my life, my duty."

            "I'm not your enemy, Buffy."

            "You're not?" Buffy replied incredulously. "You're not my enemy, but you're doing exactly the things my enemies have tried to do in the past.  Opening the Hellmouth, just like the Master.  Attacking the people I love, just like Angelus.  Bringing some horrible demon into the world, just like the Mayor.  Don't you see it, Will?!"

            For a hopeful moment, Buffy thought the witch was hesitating.  But then Willow smiled, shook her head, almost sadly.

            "It's too late for that kind of drama, Buffy," Willow said, and waved her hands over and through the light shaft.

            The ground shook again, the strongest quake yet, and they were both thrown off of their feet.

            The jostling woke Spike up.  He groaned, tried to sit up.  He felt like his skull had been shattered.  Blood dripped out of his ears and nose.

            "Bet you're glad you don't have a heartbeat, huh?"         

            Xander was limping towards him a few paces away, looking similarly beat-up.

            "Wish these bloody nerve-endings would go ahead and stop working," Spike grimaced, climbing slowly to his feet. "Hundred and fifty years and they're still hummin'."

            Something groaned not far away, and a rain of dust and plaster cascaded down around them.  The building was beginning to come down once and for all.

            "What's happening?" Giles said, coming around the corner, followed by Dawn. 

            Something inhuman shrieked from upstairs.

            "My guess is...that," Spike said.  They moved towards the crumbling stairs.

            With an eerie, inhuman whine, the red light became black, swirling, cold.

            Buffy and Willow recovered at the same moment, and both scrambled towards the light.  They reached out simultaneously, hands outstretched on each side of the beam.

            At first Buffy felt nothing, nothing except an icy wind.  She thought it was strange that something shooting up from Hell should be cold, but there it was.  The beam became broader, encompassing them both.  Buffy felt it come around her, then through her, and she shuddered.  It was like a thousand cold fingers running up and across her skin, playing her like a piano.  She looked over and saw that Willow was experiencing the same sensation.

            Then the beam broke, coalesced between them, and started to writhe like a solid, living thing trying to escape their grasp.  Buffy held on for dear life, though it was beginning to slip.  Willow did the same.

            They ran in to find Buffy and Willow standing face to face, both staring at something between them that none of the rest could see.  Buffy's eyes were closed, her mouth pursed in concentration.

            "No!" Giles shouted desperately.   He surged forward, Xander just behind him.  Dawn was at the door with Spike standing at her back.

            The librarian was halfway across the room when there was a flash between the two girls, of light that was not light, of darkness.  Willow was gone in the blink of an eye; Buffy followed suit an instant later.  The flash grew, expanded outward like a shockwave across the room.  Giles skidded to a halt before he was pulled away into the blackness.  Xander had enough time to turn and give out a warning shout before he was gone.

            Dawn closed her eyes, braced for the dark wave.  Before it could reach her, however,  she felt a cold hand on hers, and then she was flying through the air over Spike's head.  She landed with a thud some distance away, the wind knocked out of her lungs.  Still she was able to open her eyes and look towards the center of the room.

            Spike was giving her a strange look, a look of grim concern, almost parental.  Before she could say anything, he was swallowed by the wave.  It continued across the room.  She felt it as it touched her, cold and silent.  It tugged at her, wanted to pull her away from this place to somewhere that was not.  For an instant she was in limbo between two worlds, one the school...and another that seemed to be a vast, empty plain.  

            But the wave had lost its power to transport.  It dissipated around her.

            She was left alone in the hallway, alone except for Spike's last words echoing in her head.

            _Sorry, pet,_ it said solemnly, _this one's for the grownups_.

            _Commercials_


	12. Act Five

_Act V_

            "Where are we?" Xander said, looking curiously up at the blue sky.

            "An excellent question," Giles responded, glancing around. "Somehow I would venture to say we are not in Sunnydale anymore.  Or Kansas, for that matter."

            "I've been here before," Buffy said softly, a strange expression on her face. "I know this place."

            "Here?  Buffy, when have you -" Giles started, and then comprehension dawned on his face like clear sunrise. "Ah.  Then we...we seem to be -"

            "Dead," Xander said finally, flatly, "Dead."

            "Oh, bugger that," Spike spoke up then. "If the Big Man thinks he's goin' to have me pluckin' harp strings with you knobs for all eternity, he's got another think coming."

            "Hey, you better count yourself lucky your were in the same room with us, pal," Xander said indignantly. "Otherwise you'd be doing your time south of the border, if you know what I mean."

            "Yeah, you're the paragon of virtue, alright," Spike smirked. "So what's up with this Heaven gig, Slayer?  Thought they'd be a little more select with the members list up here."

            "You're just guests," came a lilting voice behind them. "You won't be here long."

            They all turned to see Willow walking across the plain towards them, dressed in a flowing green gown that matched the rolling grass surrounding them.  She smiled calmly as she looked at them, though there was a melancholy tint to the expression.

            "Will, oh God," Buffy whispered, and ran to her, pulling her into a hug. "You're alright.  I was so worried."

            "I'm safe, Buffy," she responded evenly. "I have you to thank for it.  You saved me from myself."

            Giles was giving her a look heavy with grief. "And now...you can't leave."

            Willow glanced at him, and then back at Buffy.  Her eyes were shining. 

            "No, Will," Buffy said, her voice choked with emotion. "We're here to get you.  You've got to come back with us."

            "I can't, Buffy," Willow responded with a sigh. "I asked my question.  I have my answers.  I deserve my rest, just as you deserved yours a year ago."

            "You pulled me out of mine," Buffy replied shortly.  
            "Yes.  I was wrong," Willow said simply, without sadness or anger. "I'm sorry."

            "It's not your time," Xander said stubbornly from the side.  "You can't die, not like this."

            "That decision isn't yours or mine to make," she said. "I'm here because I was out of control on Earth.  I was going to throw the world out of balance.  There was something evil in me that could not be overcome.  I was split in two.  Part of me writhes in agony now."

            "What?" Giles said, aghast. "You mean...you're in a hell dimension?"

            "Part of me is.  The part that wanted to spread itself around the globe, to suck the power out of every living creature until it was surrounded by ashes.  It grew in me like a parasite."

            "Then just leave it where it is, Willow," Buffy started. "You, the good you, the real you, can come..."

            She trailed off as Will shook her head. 

            "That part of me, as dark as it was, was necessary.  Without it I'm only half a person.  If I go back now...I'll lose control again, and we'll be back in the same situation." She paused, struggled with the words. "I...can't make you all go through that again."

            "Willow, we can fight it," Xander said then, holding her shoulders. "We can make it better.  It doesn't have to end like this."

            She stared at him, unblinking.  He pleaded with her silently.

            "I..." she started, and swallowed. "I don't even know...how to start looking for the rest of me.  It might be dangerous."

            "I'm not leaving unless you are," Buffy said firmly.

            "Me neither," Xander said.

            "Of course we aren't," Giles added.

            They all turned to Spike.

            "What?" he said. "Oh, you all can go fit for your flowing white gowns and what not, but I'm on the first flight Earthward."

            Buffy gave him a look, and he scowled.

            "Oh, fine.  Willow, please, please come home with us.  Christmas morning just won't be the same without you.  And so on."

            Willow beamed at them. "This is...too cool."

            Giles looked around them at the plain. "So...anybody see how to get out of here?  Road sign bathed in ethereal light, perhaps?"

            "Something like, 'Hell, 45 miles'?" Xander said. "Nada."

            Buffy bit her lip. "Maybe if we concentrate hard enough -"

            "Click our heels together three times?" Spike said. "That'll do the trick."

            "Spike, you've been resident evil around here before," Xander said testily. "This is your ticket outta here, too.  Anything insightful to add to the conversation?"

            "Wrong side of the river, mate," Spike responded acidly.

            Buffy walked a few feet away, gazing around.  Before her stretched field after field of grass, waving lazily, unchanging and unblinking.

            "We'll make it better!" she shouted suddenly to the wind. "It doesn't have to be like it was.  You brought us here for a reason!  You could have just taken Willow and ended it, but you took all of us."

            She smiled faintly. "I know why.  Because you know we can change it."

            Silence.  After a moment, the smile faded from Buffy's face, and she shook her head, turning back to the others.

            "I...I don't know what else to try," she started. "They must have -"

            With a jolt the five of them were in darkness.  

            As her eyes adjusted, Buffy saw that they were on a cliff.  Below them some few hundreds of feet stretched a rocky surface, dotted here and there with other, smaller hills and valleys.  In the valleys spanned enormous rivers of fire, of lava, that moved lazily here or there seemingly at will.  And populating the plain from the bottom of the cliff to the horizon were countless beasts, hideous demons, distorted by a thousand lifetimes of anguish and torment.

            "Now this..." Spike said with something very much like horror in his voice. "This feels more like home."

            Up from below them drifted the sounds of the plain, the same sounds that Willow had managed to drag up from the Hellmouth during the opening ritual.  Here, however, the screams came undistorted to the ear.  If she paid attention she could associate the sounds with their origins.  She stopped paying attention.    

            "These lucky chaps here," Spike continued grimly, "get to mine this rock 'till it's gone.  And then they get a brand spankin' new one to break up.  For all eternity."

            Overhead more asteroids flew through the roiling red sky, hundreds of them, each one visibly teeming with working hordes.

            "There," Willow said solemnly.

            Buffy turned in the direction Willow was pointing.  Behind them stretched another field of demons, each more ugly than the one beside it.  The beasts heaved gigantic, gnarled pickaxes, listlessly tearing the rock beneath them to shreds.  Some staggered back and forth, loading and unloading sacks of rocks into an infinitely deep chasm a few hundred yards away.  None of the demons gave the little group any notice.

            "How do you know?" Buffy whispered. "I c-can't tell one from the other."          "I can," Willow replied simply.

            As if on cue, one of the beasts ceased its work for a moment to look over at them.  Willow motioned to it, and it shambled out of line, coming towards the group.

            They stood face to face, the two Willows.  The demon Willow towered higher than any of them.  Massive black horns jutted from its forehead over two large eyes the color of obsidian.  The barrel chest tapered at the waist to two thin, stringy legs.  Its huge hands and feet ended in ragged claws that were three inches long.  A mane of red hair cascaded down its back like flame.  In every way this beast, this monster, was the hellish opposite of the Willow standing beside it.  And yet...

            It gazed at all of them in turn before returning to the other Willow with something like awe on its demonic features.

            Finally it opened its wide mouth.

            "Me?"

            The other Willow, no less amazed, nodded, almost smiled.

            "Me."

            Without warning, the beast Willow reached down to grab Willow by the neck.  It picked her up and held her several feet above the ground.

            "Take me back, now," it growled at Buffy. "Take me back or I crush her throat and leave all of you stranded here."

            "If she dies, you're stuck here, too," Buffy replied stonily.

            The beast Willow considered this for long moment. 

"If I go, she must stay in my place forever.  Let her suffer as I -"

            "It doesn't work that way, either, dammit!" Buffy railed in frustration. "Let her go now, and you get your chance to leave."

            The beast gazed into Willow's eyes, and finally set her down.  It walked over to stand in front of Buffy as Willow started to recover, rubbing her neck.

            "Why didn't you leave me here?" it said in its deep, rasping voice.

            "Because we need you both to -"

            "No," it interrupted. "Why didn't you leave us both here?  You thought we were going to destroy the world before.  What makes you think we won't do the same thing when we go back?"

            "We're going to help...you both," Buffy replied. "Willow...the real Willow...isn't evil.  She knows what she was doing wasn't helping or avenging anyone."       

            "But we did it anyway."

            "Yes," Buffy agreed. "You were in a lot of pain.  People do stupid things when they're in a lot of pain."

            It looked at the other Willow.

            "I am a part of her," it growled savagely, grinning. "I will always be there, waiting for my chance to escape."

            "We know that now," Buffy nodded. "But we'll always be there to remind her who she really is."

            Dawn was left alone in the hallway, alone except for Spike's last words echoing in her head.

            And then the light flashed again, and they were all standing there, in the same positions they had been standing in when the bubble had hit them.  They gaped at each other for a breathless few seconds, and turned as one to Willow, staring at her expectantly.  Dawn braced for another fight.

            But Willow collapsed to the floor, sobbing helplessly.

            Buffy gaped for a moment, then knelt down to gather the girl into her arms.

            "Hey, I hate to interrupt this cuddly-cue moment," Spike said. "But if I remember correctly we've still got quite the nasty little side effect to deal with from Red's ritual."

            They all looked around carefully.

            "Anybody see any ferocious pit demons around?" Xander said. "'Cause I'm drawing a -"

            The demon rolled out of the debris next to Dawn and squealed at them furiously.  Dawn stood up and swung the axe down, nearly cleaving the thing in two.  It flopped for a few seconds, mewling, then stopped moving.

            "Well, alright," Spike said, nonplused. 

            Willow was shivering, a tiny ball of a person in Buffy's arms.  Xander and Giles knelt beside them, clustering protectively.

            "Buffy," Giles said carefully, one hand placed gently on Willow's arm. "Buffy, I think it would be prudent if we moved outside.  What's left of the school might not hold up much longer."

            She nodded.  Together the three of them helped Willow to her feet, despite the fact that they were all in varying states of injury.  They half-supported her, gingerly walking towards the door.

            "C'mon, bit," Spike said, waving Dawn ahead of him.

            "What happened?" Dawn said, looking worriedly at Willow's shaking form. "Where'd you guys go?"

            "Heaven and hell and back again, niblet," Spike said, smirking. "Quite a little story."

_Finito_


End file.
